Allegro
Prologue/Chapter 1
Rated PG
Sequel to Adagio. Picks up a week later. Starts the ball rolling, and it won't stop for a long long time.
"You have to let me go, Chief." Dominic leaned over, trying to see the monitor.
"No." Chief Inspector Finch did not look up from the screen. "You have an appointment with a surgeon.
"No. No sir. There is no time for that. You know every hour counts. Especially in the beginning."
"Dominic." Finch put it all into the tone of his voice. The finality. The decision. The futility of further discussion.
"Chief," and Finch heard it all in Dominic's voice. The desperation. The grief. The power of a man who wishes to run, but is held back. He held tight.
"No."
"She is still on the books as "wanted". Look at your schedule."
Finch didn't need to look. He knew. His appointment book was filled to overflowing: Interviews, briefings, meetings, reports…he was booked for months. Dominic opened his own diary, pushed it right under his nose. Empty. Blank. Not a day filled in with anything.
"You thought I was dead. They thought I was dead. I was full time on the terrorist. He is dead now, inspector. Dead. I have no assignment. Let me go."
"No. You are in no shape to go. Your hand…" Finch was tired. I am tired.
"Is fine. It is fine."
"It is not. You need to see a surgeon. Get it set properly."
"No, Chief. We need to find her."
"No. We don't. Leave her alone, Dominic. Leave her be."
"She is…she will be…he told me…"
"No."
"Fucking Hell, Chief, don't do this to me. Christ." Dominic went down.
Finch winced to see his partner on the floor. Kneeling, ruined. He turned away. "No. She doesn't want you, Dominic. She has 2.5 million pounds to her name. She has property in Soho, Bloomsbury and King's Cross. She doesn't need you. She doesn't want you. You must know that."
"He gave her to me, Chief. He gave her to me. She is mine."
"Dominic." Finch leaned down over the edge of his desk. "Dominic," he tried to sound like a father. "Dominic. He can't give her to you. He can't. You know that." He waited. Dominic made some strangling sounds. Finch waited. He waited. Longer. He rested his elbow on the side of his desk, watched him. He could only see the top of his partner's head. Watched. "Leave her be," he said again.
Dominic didn't look up. His voice was soft, "She could be lost. In trouble. Under surveillance or captured."
"No. She's fine."
"What?" Dominic came up from the floor; put his left hand on Finch's desk. "What? How can you know? How do you know? What do you know? Why didn't you tell me?"
Finch frowned. "You are ill. It is not your concern. She is gone. You need to be thinking of other things. New assignments. New cases."
"Huh. Chief. Don't do this. Tell me what you know."
"She is in Paris."
"How do you know?"
"He told me." Finch indicated his monitor with a tilt of his head. Dominic will never accept this until he knows it all. So I will tell him. "He sent me an email this morning. Her name is Evelyn Abernathy. She has all his money. She is in Paris. Leave her be, Dominic."
"How can he send you an email. He is dead."
"He has a trip. Obviously."
"No. It can't be."
"See for yourself."
"I have to go, Chief, send me. The case is not closed. Send me. I can be your InterPol liaison. Recall Higgins, he is getting married in February. Please, Chief. Please."
"I'll not have you hounding her, Dominic. No."
"God damn it, Chief! What do I have to do?"
"Not a damned thing. You get back to your desk. Dial the surgeon. Make an appointment. Stop thinking about her."
Dominic looked at him. Finch struggled to keep his expression impassive and professional. He never wanted to see another human being look at him the way his partner was looking at him now. He blinked slowly, to keep his eyes clear. He swallowed carefully, to keep it from looking like fear. He drew in a long breath, careful to keep it from being a sigh. Dominic stood up straight, turned his back on him and went out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Finch let the air out. Not good. Not good at all. He turned to the message on the monitor. What do you want me to do, my friend? What shall I do?